


all this love and all this waiting

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Chocolate Box, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eating Disorders, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pining, Post-Purgatory, Protective Sam Winchester, Regret, Reunions, Romance, Sam Takes Care Of Dean, Sick Dean Winchester, Survivor Guilt, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Sam had been jealous for a while because Dean stared at Cas like he was this whole other part of the world, which Sam learned to do too, and as he learned he stopped being jealous and started loving his brother for loving Cas and loving Cas right along with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all this love and all this waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



> Written for Chocolate Box for kisahawklin (kate). I noticed that Wincestiel is the ship of your heart so I couldn’t resist… hope you like and Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

Dean’s been out of it since he got back from Purgatory. Sam knows that somewhere inside there’s still the real Dean, coiled up so tightly and needing to be coaxed out, yet Sam doesn’t know exactly how to _do_ that. It’s no secret that Dean’s pissed at Sam for not searching the ends of the Earth for his own brother, and while Sam would like to be pissed off at himself too he can’t be. He’s just… detached. He’d love to feel guilt when Dean looks at him, his gaze guarded but haunted too, like there were things in Purgatory that Sam couldn’t even imagine, but the truth is he doesn’t feel much of anything but relief and a small amount of irritation at sliding back into the role fate has chosen for him.

Still, there are _other_ ways he can make it up to Dean.

He asks about Cas once or twice and then drops the subject. Sam can tell Dean doesn’t want to talk about him and he doesn’t push him, that’s at least one thing he can do. Even if Dean can’t completely fill that joy sucking hole in his life and he _knows_ that Cas would be able to.

With Cas it was just never the right time. Sam struggled for years out of that awkward state and fought just as hard not to fall into a brand new awkward phase for admitting how he felt. And Dean… well, he gave up on Dean years ago. Dean’s so far in the closet that Sam has to just let it amuse him until the day comes when he breaks or explodes or both. He still stares at Dean’s ass every once in a while like it’s his business to, because Sam has to appreciate him in _every_ way he can with how frequently they die and all, and his heart is so full of love for his brother that he’s just lived off of for all these years.

All that love keeps him sane and wanted and whole, especially because he knows Dean reciprocates it in _every_ way. Dean may never get up the balls to admit how he really feels, that’s up to Sam, but it never meant Sam stopped loving Dean through all their time together for even a second.

And Sam had been jealous for a while because Dean stared at Cas like he was this whole other part of the world, which Sam learned to do too, and as he learned he stopped being jealous and started loving his brother for loving Cas and loving Cas right along with him.

With how much all three of them have been through, with how much he and _Dean_ have been through, nothing in their lives should be complicated.

Yet everything still _is._

Sam’s hand goes to Dean’s back and starts rubbing there, sporadically at first until his brother relaxes into it and then Sam can’t stop. Dean’s skin is warm and sweaty under his palm but Sam _knows_ that skin by touch alone. He knows Dean’s heart from the size of it all the way down to the soothing lullaby of his heartbeat, strong but sure, beating for Sam and Sam alone. He can read his brother’s facial ticks down to a T no matter how hard Dean tries to hide away, and has gotten so adept at being able to tell when Dean’s in pain and at what Winchester level that pain’s at that he’s _still_ amazed Dean tries to hide it. In the dark Sam could paint on canvas the graceful curve of his brother’s back and the bow of his legs, supple and sexy, and those he fantasized about when he was just a scrawny kid. 

It had been his job to admire his big brother in every way possible. _Someone_ had to. 

After Stanford it was _annoying_ , sliding back so easily into the hunting life with his brother, mostly because he _didn_ _’t_ want it to be easy. All those unrequited feelings for Dean? They just came rushing back like Sam was a horny teenager all over again. It had taken longer for his anger to cave in and let that love for Dean wash over him again, but it _had_ happened eventually.

And then he went right back to craving his brother’s every word and every touch, storing them away in his head for safekeeping. For a rainy day.

He presses his lips to Dean’s shoulder blade and Dean shudders, swallowing profusely, trying to keep the food he just ate for Sam down. The weeks since Dean has returned have been hard for the both of them, Sam being kept up by Dean’s body ridding itself of food as he adjusts to eating normal, _human_ food again, Sam jerking awake to the sound of Dean’s nightmares, Sam at a loss except for that he has to take care of Dean now.

It’s back to work again. 

Truth is, with Dean here it _is_ really like coming back home. He’s missed Dean brushing everything off and claiming that he’s fine and insisting that Sam stop mother-henning him. He’s even sorta missed Dean’s anger, the familiar hurt that Dean always carries around like a second skin. No one can hold claim to Dean like he does, not even Cas.

 _He_ may as well have put Dean down there for not doing anything about it, and suddenly the weight of that crushes him, wraps around his bones and rattles them until Sam’s breathing is as jerky as Dean’s. He didn’t look for his own _brother._ Dean talks about Cas sometimes like he wasn’t even there, like Dean was alone, and Sam feels _that_ too, wants to pound into the angel for not looking after Dean and wants to wrap his arms around Cas and whisper frantically that he’s sorry for everything.

Sam shakes the thought of a missing Cas away and presses the rim of the Gatorade bottle to Dean’s lips, bidding him to drink. His older brother is honest to god trembling against him, hand fisted in Sam’s shirt and all Sam has wanted to do is sob at the state of him. He stays strong. Winchesters _always_ tough it out. Dean takes a few difficult swallows before pushing the bottle away. “Sorry for not trying harder, Sammy,” and Sam has this terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that Dean’s not talking about re-hydrating himself.

He puts the bottle down and eyes Dean warily. Sam’s not used to Dean saying sorry and that’s twisting him up inside too. _He_ _’s_ the one who should be saying sorry, he just can’t get the words out. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Cas didn’t want to come back. Tried, man. I knew… I _know_ how you felt… feel.”

Dean sighs in frustration and starts coughing. Soon he’s hacking so hard like he’s trying to cough up all the years of hurt, like a _black sickness_ weighing him down and clogging up all where there once was light and happiness and even innocence. Yet Sam can’t think about that too hard or too much, only considers the two of them far too lucky that blood hasn’t come up.

When Dean’s done he’s folded in on himself so tightly like he can’t bear for Sam to see the state of him, and all that does is make Sam want to yell at him that he doesn’t care. That Dean needs to grow the fuck up and let Sam take care of him because god knows Dean gave up his life doing it for Sam. Instead, he positions his brother until Dean’s sweat-soaked face is tucked securely against Sam’s chest and he’s _still_ coughing. Sam holds him there, one hand petting the back of Dean’s head, fingers smoothing down his hair, and the other splayed along Dean’s back, patting it gently until he calms down. “Jesus, Dean. You gotta take it easy.”

His big brother doesn’t listen. “Should’ve tried harder.”

“I don’t care, Dean,” he reassures him even though it’s not like Dean will hear him. Or care. He can’t have this be another thing Dean hates himself for, he’ll take all of Dean’s hate at Sam for not looking for him but he absolutely refuses giving his brother another reason to drink himself to death. “I don’t….” The door creaks and Sam jerks around and looks up, pulling Dean closer to him and curling around him in an effort to protect him. The nearest gun is on the dresser table four feet away and there’s no way Sam will leave Dean in here unprotected. He blinks hard against the moonlight that filters in from the bedroom and obscures the face of whomever is standing in the doorway.

Except Sam would know that trench coat _anywhere_ , even grime-covered and torn up as it is. “Cas?”

Dean jerks in his arms, trying to scramble out of Sam’s hold but Sam holds tight like the world is caught up in a hurricane. For all he knows this could be some illusion cooked up in an effort to get him to stand down. He can’t risk that, not when Dean’s not himself right now. “Sammy,” Dean slurs, _still_ trying to move out of his brother’s arms. “Sam, what’s going on?”

The gravelly voice responds, too strong and recognizable for Sam to keep doubting. “Sam. It’s me.”

There’s a knife in Sam’s back pocket that he draws out as Cas approaches, just ‘cause he has to be sure. The angel gives him this, waits a long moment until he bends down in front of them, and Sam can see his face glowing through the dirt and the overgrown hair and the beard and he sobs because if this is Cas, if this is _really_ Cas, then he doesn’t have to keep waiting and hoping and regretting anymore. Two fingers are pressed to his forehead and that headache that’s been lingering for days now disappears, and that’s when the knife slips out of his hand and falls to the tile floor.

Sam looks down and brushes a thumb over his brother’s cheek, wanting more than anything to see those bright green eyes light up for him and show recognition once he sees Cas. “Hey, Dean, look who it is.” Dean’s pale and shivering and there are deep, dark circles under his eyes and he looks so _tired,_ but Sam’s heart swells with love and pride as Dean’s eyes open and lock with the angel’s. Sam’s first lover gasps and the next breath catches in his throat, resulting in him choking and gasping for air. Sam pulls him upright to help him breathe easier and waits, smiling when Cas’ hand cups Dean’s cheek and Dean calms.

The angel settles down on the bathroom floor beside them, body radiating heat and face radiating _love_. “I’m happy to see you as well.”

* * *

 

Later, when they’re curled up in bed together, a feverish Dean mashed between Sam and Cas and snoring softly, Sam reaches over his brother to run a hand over Cas’ beard, enjoying the scratchy feel of it on the pads of his fingers.

“You don’t like it?” The angel cocks his head to the side and studies him.

Sam _definitely_ disagrees. “Nah. Think I might be able to get used to it. Makes you look more human.” Dean stirs between them and snuffles in his sleep. Sam looks down and his heart melts at how relaxed Dean looks, at his hand curled lightly around Cas’ wrist. Sam could take out his phone and use the image as blackmail, except the moment’s kinda too good to ruin. Dean grumbles when Sam’s hand runs down the curve of his back, dipping underneath the waistband of his boxers. Before too long his brother is arching into the touch, and when Sam looks up again Cas’ eyes are on fire.

His hand clasps Cas’ chin and he pulls the angel forward for a kiss, although he doesn’t refrain from continuing to caress Dean. The way Sam sees it, he doesn’t have to choose.

Sam’s heart is big enough for the two of them.

**FIN**


End file.
